Page 10 of Burning for the Billionaire 7

Chapter 6

Rowan

The trip to Coloradohasn’t been as bad as I expected. Moments with the Lawsons are tense—with a dose of uncomfortable thrown in because of Elizabeth’s flirting—but for the most part, I enjoy spending the extra time with Grace. Plus, being here is a major distraction from worrying about my own life rapidly descending into chaos.

Grace leans into me, bringing my attention back to my surroundings on a yacht with pretentious strangers. We’ve been pulled into conversation with The Plastics—I mean, Isabelle’s friends. Of course, I’m bored out of my mind engaging a bunch of twenty- and early-thirty-somethings with whom I have nothing in common. But I suppose they’re not all awful.

A few times, Colton, the groom, has subtly expressed sympathy about my salary, which is amusing, considering I could buy him this rented yacht and that Lamborghini he gushes about for his wedding gift. However, he hasn’t been downright rude the way Isabelle is to Grace and the other bridesmaids. The Preppies are alright, just immature for their age.

Glancing at Grace, who’s glued to my side, I can see that her eyes are glazing over. I warned her to ease off the champagne—lightweight that she is.

“Grace, we heard you were in a fire,” one girl says. I’m calling her Bridesmaid Number Two, since I refer to the maid of honor as Number One. I can’t keep all the names straight.

“Yeah, how awful.” Bridesmaid Number Three clutches her chest.

Grace stiffens beside me, her hold on my arm tightening.

Oh no.These people are unwittingly throwing her back into the fray of PTSD. She’s just starting to sleep through the night without nightmares.

“It was... terrifying.” She gulps down champagne.

Pulling my hand from my pocket, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and rub her arm. It’s an instinctive action to comfort her, and I’m satisfied when I feel her relax in my hold. I’ll forever love that I make her feel safe.

Forever. I’ve been thinking about Grace and me in that sense way too much lately.

Bridesmaid Number Four gushes, “You two are adorable. You’re so relationship-goals.”

I lift an eyebrow, wondering how young she is. Grace is twenty-three, and she doesn’t talk like that.

“Don’t you all think that it’s so romantic that Grace is dating the man who saved her?” Number Two says. “It’s like something out of a romantic drama.”

Jesus.

Grace shoots me a half-amused, half-apologetic look.

Isabelle—likely pissed that her sister is now the center of attention—jumps in. “Ladies, enough talk about nonsense. We should be discussing the final dress fitting tomorrow.”

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